An Encyclopedic Analysis of the Peoples and Culture of Alterra
by Aeshdan
Summary: An series of expository articles on a world the kids might have made after getting the Final Reward. Written during the Omegapause, and canon only up until there. Roxy(heart)John(spade)Terezi(heart)Karkat
1. Temples of Alterra: The Outer Ring

The Thirteen are the gods of Alterra. Every town has at least a shrine where the three races of Alterra may offer up prayers to their gods, or make offerings to show how much they value the support of those gods. Larger cities have a ring of shrines, built in the image of the first temples, the temples raised by the gods themselves at the Place of Descent. And those first temples? Those are the heart of the religion of this world. Let us see the temples the Thirteen raised for themselves, and see what gods this world has.

Imagine that we have made the pilgrimage to the Place of Descent, as nearly everyone who has a chance does at least once. This sacred site stands apart from all nations, on an island set apart to the Gods. A handful of international organizations are headquartered in the city that has grown up around the First Temples, and it's not uncommon for the city to be used as a neutral location for meetings between rival realms. We have made our imaginary way off the ship and up through the city to the plateau on which the temples stand. Temples to twelve of the Thirteen form a ring around the edge of the impossibly circular mesa, and we will begin by visiting each of those temples in turn.

Let us begin at the northern point of the compass, with the temple of the Heir. This temple has neither roof nor walls, for the Heir's wind will not enter buildings. A ring of pipes and tubes pierced with holes surrounds the central platform like some vast organ, constantly playing an unending song as his breath blows through them. The Heir is always in flight in his depictions. Even his massive statue at the center of the temple shows him riding the winds, white marble flesh and blue-painted robes suspended above the mundane earth on pillars of crystal, the hammer of thunder in his hand. The blue stone courtyard beneath his Pipes is packed with petitioners and the altars at the center of the ring burn with incense as people offer up a sacrifice to show how much they value the Heir's favor. Most will be praying for favorable weather, for the Heir rules the winds and the weather that they bring. Some will be pilots, for they who fly are also his. Some will be leaders, kings and generals and CEOs, for the Heir is first among equals, and rules even over the Rogue and the Faceless God. Some will be praying for the Heir to help preserve a friendship or to bring them one, for the Heir is said to have dominion over the softer relationships. And some few, none knows who, will be criminals or those wracked by guilt, for the Heir is kismesis to the Blind Judge, and only he can persuade her to stay her hand.

Next in the circle is the temple of the Maid. Most of her temples are of wood bedecked with flowers and carved in the shape of plants and beasts, but this temple, the temple she herself crafted with divine hands, is of living wood. Trees blossom from the earth, woven together like braided wicker into walls of life, shaggy with leaves. And the statues of the Maid Liberated is likewise living, the brown and green of her robes made of living wood and sprouting leaf. Most of the prayers offered up to her are simple thanks for fruitful harvests or good food, for both the growth that makes the food and the cooking that turns it edible are hers. Her altars brim with food offered up, most especially cakes, and every day hundreds who have no other sustenance feast on the offerings. But there are other prayers. One corner of the temple is of metal painted the hue of blood, the same hue as the robes of the statue that stands in that corner. And those who kneel before the Maid Chained are the desperate, those who like her have been enslaved by evil, or those who seek to set the enslaved free and beg the aid of she who watches over those who are chained, whether it be by physical chains or by webs of lies.

After the Maid's temple, we come to that of the Thief, a marvel of gold and gems, blazing in the light. The Thief's temple is as much casino as cathedral, with hundreds coming each day to court her favor with rolls of the dice or turns of the cards in the outer rooms. In the central sanctum, petitioners kneel before her statues to petition her for luck in all walks of life. And, though it is not commonly spoken of, some kneel to ask her favor on illegal activities, for the Thief is patron of thieves and pirates and tricksters and all who live by their wits. But though there are many who worship the Thief, there are few who truly love or adore her. For it is known that her power does not create luck, but merely transfers it. For each bit of good luck she gives out, there is distributed a corresponding bit of bad luck. For every roll of the dice that comes up all eights, another roll must come up all ones.

At the western point, beyond the temple of the Thief, lies the house of the Seer. Some wonder if the gods had made a jest in the juxtaposition of those two temples, for the ideologies of the Seer and the Thief are as opposed as any can be. If the Thief rules luck and free will, the Seer speaks of fate and foreknowledge. The Thief takes fate and bends it to her will, the Seer sees fate and is ruled by it. Those who kneel before her statues of gold and ivory pray to her for insight, for a glimpse into the pathways of light and fortune that stretch before her. But always, looming like a shadow, is the statue of obsidian. For even the Seer once looked too far, and the Grimdark Seer reminds all of the consequences of seeking to see what should be hidden.

It is natural that the Rogue's cobalt temple should follow the golden edifice of the Seer, for each is mother and daughter to the other, and they are at once allies and counterbalances. For the Rogue is at once She Who Hides and She Who Reveals. Her power is the void that blinds the Seer, and she, like the Thief, has dominion over the outcast and over all those who seek to hide from another, or from themselves. But though she takes, she also gives. She is patron of scientists and inventors, and it is her priests who are at the forefront of charity and provision for the poor. It is she who parents tell their children sneaks in through the walls in the dead of night to leave behind gifts on Hussmas, and just occasionally they speak truth. And it is she who contests dominion over intoxication with the Clown, keeping the Abhorred from having full control over the things that make glad the heart and those who partake of such things. Leaders also kneel at her feet, for as her husband the Heir rules over those who lead openly, so the Rogue has dominion over secret leaders, over whispers in the beds of kings and over consiglieres that stand behind the throne.

Beyond the Rogue's shrine we come to that of the Sylph. There are nearly always funerals in this her central shrine, for she has dominion over death and rebirth, and it is she who brings both the cold sleep of winter and the new growth of spring. Frogs decorate the walls of her temple, for she and the Witch were both frog-breeders, both identified with life's endless quest to survive and grow. Children are thick in her shrines, for she takes in children whose parents cannot or will not provide for them, and if her priestesses cannot find new families for these foundlings, they are raised by the temples themselves. It is also alleged that beneath her first temple here is a reserve of matriorbs, kept in suspension by mysterious technology should the troll race ever again be without a Mother Grub.

We have now come halfway around the circle to the temple of the Knight, which stands at the southern point of the compass. This temple is red, red as blood, red as the heart that beats the pulse of time. There are many clocks in this temple, and the great bells that ring the hours can be heard across the city. Moreover, in the tower of this temple is the Master Clock, the one by which all other clocks across the globe are set. Legend says that the Knight himself set that clock, and that his power keeps it accurate even now. Few pray to the Knight, for his guardianship of the timelines is cruelly impartial. He does what must be done to keep time running straight, and as he does not spare himself the cost of the endless corrections, neither does he spare anyone else. But some few do offer worship to him, chiefly historians and lorekeepers.

After the Knight comes the Prince, the Destroyer. Like the two that flank him, he is a merciless god, and the Heart upon his chest is empty. He is master of war, of destruction, and what he destroys, not even the Sylph can bring back. Soldiers pray to him, and executioners, and all who bring necessary destruction. For destruction is necessary from time to time, and whenever it is, the Prince is near at hand.

Beyond the Prince is the Blind Judge, the Legislacerator, ruler over justice and judgement. Many come to her temple to ask for justice, both in prayer to the Judge herself, and in petition to the legislacerators that are her hands in the world. But few can walk through the gates of her temple without a trace of fear in their hearts, for as she is blind to the deceptions and obfuscations of the wicked, so also is she blind to the tears of the penitent, blind to shades of gray, blind to the terrible price that justice can exact.

Continuing the circle we have reached the eastern point, and the temple of the Witch. She is the Gardener, the Frog-Breeder, she who guides the ascension of nature and adapts each thing to its environment. Frogs decorate her temples, for they symbolize the transition from life in the mud to life in the sun. All the wild places are hers, and even her own form echoes the beasts she rules. But, or perhaps naturally, she is also patron of travel and exploration, of all that is involved in going from here to there or hither to yon.

If the Witch stands for the potential of mindless life, the Page is the potential in human and troll and carapacian. All who seek to excel, whether in art or craft or science, come to his white temple to pray for his blessing, for he started lowest and rose highest, and the murals show him blazing like a white sun.

The temple of the Faceless God is like no other, for where all the rest of the Thirteen ascended, the Faceless God descended. Though that portion of him which resides with the other Gods rules over love in all its forms, his true work is done clad in mortal flesh. Again and again he has been reborn wherever there is oppression. Like his matespirit, the Blind Judge, the Faceless God stands against injustice. But where she hunts out the criminal, he appears where the law itself has been corrupted. Sometimes he will lead rebellions, sometimes he heads protests, sometimes he simply ushers in reforms. No mural or statue will show his face, for it is different in every incarnation, but his sign, the six and the nine, is constant. Every rebellion, every protest group, every reform movement, bears that mark as its banner, and only the Gods know which are led by Him.


	2. Temples of Alterra: Within The Ring

Turning inwards we must next pass through the Memorials. There are dozens of these tiny shrines, each dedicated to the memory of someone or something that one of the Thirteen had lost. Friends, family, allies. Quite a number were raised at the beginning, but more have been added over the millennia, to commemorate mortals who particularly drew the Gods' attention.

Most of the memorials, even the original ones, are mere tombs, but sixteen of them are something more. For there were seven trolls and nine dancestors whose spirits were kept from death by the Sylph's power and brought into the new universe by the Thirteen. Over the years, most of the countless versions of each of these spirits have moved on to whatever lies beyond or been reincarnated to live and die mortal lives, but each of their shines still has a spirit or two hanging around, and from time to time they will speak of the realms from which they once came, and on occasion they will hand out blessings.

At the center of the plaza, in the symbolic place of Skaia, there stands the temple of the Muse. The Muse, like certain of the other Gods, is worshipped under a dual nature. In one guise, she is the Guardian Muse, who eons ago locked herself in a neverending duel against the indestructible Lord English, mightiest of the Abhorred. In another, she is the Muse of Heavens. It is often said that her domain in this aspect is the stars, but this is an oversimplification. Though the Muse does rule the stars, this is a mere side effect of her true purpose. For the Muse is the caretaker of the Great Frog. All the other gods, by necessity, have entered the Great Frog and live in the realms it contains. But the cherubim, the species from which the Muse ascended, could exist in the space between frogs. And so, she exists both within and without the Great Frog, and acts as its tender.

Though there are obviously no shrines or temples built to them, the Abhorred are nonetheless a critical part of Alterran theology. The mightiest of these dark entities is, of course, Lord English. Though his true self was and is and will be locked in an eternal and timeless duel against the Muse, one cannot so easily isolate a Lord of Time. Shadows of this mightiest enemy slip their bonds to bring pain and destruction whenever they go, and the Gods and their servants must always be on watch against these aberrations.

Though Lord English is the mightiest of the Abhorred, the Condesce is the most vile. She is tyranny, dissension, hatred, and prejudice. It is she whose touch undoes the Faceless God's reforms, who rends the bonds of love and acceptance that he builds. It is she who stirs up tyrants to walk in the footsteps of her mortal life.

If the Condesce's influence taints the mind, the Clown smashes it. His domain is madness and delirium and intoxication, though the Rouge's influence limits his power over that last sphere. His cults echo the ancient madness of the subjugglators, and wherever they go, they create chaos and upheaval, which the Condesce's followers can then use as camouflage for their own subtler work.

As the Condesce's tyranny shadows the Heir's domain of open leaders, so the Lightspinner's influence is a bright mirror of the Rogue's patronage of secret leaders. What in the Rogue is beneficent becomes malevolent under the Spinner's eyes, for she is manipulation, treachery, and ill fortune. She is the subtlest of the Abhorred, apt at disguising herself as a servant of good and skilled in convincing those she influences that their manipulations are benign.


	3. Races of Alterra

The first of Alterra's races, the trolls, comprise just under a third of the planetary population. Like humans, the trolls of Alterra have been altered from their state in the original universe, both socially and biologically.

The first group of alterations to Trollish society had to do with the raising of the young. The Alternian structure, in which the young were essentially self-raised with the aid of lusi and robots, proved to be unworkable without the advanced technology levels attained by Alternian civilization. Having had harsh lessons in what happened when you skipped developmental steps, the gods were reluctant to simply give the initial trollish clans technology beyond the most basic levels (fire and metalworking and the domestication of animals and the like). As a result, trollish civilization was for many centuries arranged in broods, each brood being the offspring of a single Mother Grub. The trolls of a given brood would work together to raise the wigglers of that brood (though those who followed the path of the Sylph tended to take the lead in this matter). The role of the lusus, though diminished, remained essentially what it was on Alternia. Over time, as technological levels rose, multiple Broods merged together, creating the first trollish cities, but the communal method of raising wigglers remained largely unaltered.

The other major social alteration, not to mention the most significant biological changes, had to do with the hemospectrum. The biological portion of the hemospectrum remained for the most part unaltered. Whether or not the Gods could have left the rest of the trollish biology intact while abolishing the blood-based subspecies, they had no desire to do so.

The social implications of the hemospectrum, however, were completely rewritten, largely without the gods even having to get involved. In the case of the sea-dwellers, their preference for aquatic life caused many of them to become hermits or recluses, dwelling in isolation or small communes of their own kind under the sea. Though a few rose to high rank in early Trollish society, this number was quite small compared to those from most other bloodlines, due to a combination of the above-mentioned tendency towards reclusion and the low numbers of sea-dwellers actually born. The purple-bloods, unfortunately, suffered from a much nastier handicap. Due to their shared blood color, purple-bloods are uniquely vulnerable to the influence of the Clown. Normally, a mind must be somehow "broken" for the Clown to gain access to it, but a purple-blood's biology gives the Clown a chink though which to whisper. Though he can do little but whisper without further mental damage to open the chink wider, mere whispers can still do a lot. Though the purple-bloods have their share of leaders, heroes, and well-beloved, they have a disproportionate number of madmen, cult leaders, and serial killers.

Below the purple-bloods, things evened out to a much greater degree. Though those of higher blood are individually somewhat more likely to attain wealth and power (due to a longer lifespan and resistance to psychic manipulation), the more numerous births lower down the spectrum balance this out, to the point where no color had or has any consistent "edge" over the others.

The one major biological change to the hemospectrum was more or less the result of another change. In order to facilitate harmony between their races, the Gods altered the genetics of both humans and trolls to render them interfertile. The alterations were a success. Human genetic material, provided to a troll Mother Grub, would in fact produce wrigglers. But the wrigglers belonged not to any of the eleven previously known blood colors, nor even to the quasi-mythyical lime-bloods. No, these human-descended trolls shared the candy-red blood of humans. And when these "candybloods" provided their genetic material to the Mother Grub, those embryos would themselves have a chance to bear this new shade of blood. The candybloods proved something of a wildcard element in Troll society, and did more than almost any other caste to disrupt any attempt by the Abhorred to restore the old hemospectrum. For while the eleven other shades had the nature of their psychic gift determined by their bloodline, with only the strength varying by individual, the candybloods' psychic gifting was as random as it was among the humans. Some candybloods manifested telekinetic powers, some were telepaths, some possessed the physical enhancement and mental shielding of the "highbloods", some had weak versions of all three.

In addition to their psionic powers, trolls also have access to magic where granted by the gods.

The second of the three sapient races of Alterra, the humans comprise a bit less than two-thirds of the planet's inhabitants. Like all three races, they are bipedal, with two arms and general bilateral symmetry. Humans come in a wide variety of skin tones and hair and eye colors. Unlike the trollish hemospectrum, these distinctions have at most extremely minor physiological implications.

Humans generally reproduce via internal impregnation through heterosexual intercourse. That "generally" would until fairly recently have been an absolute, but some decades back a group of geneticists (with the aid of some Sylphcrafters), created what is essentially a much smaller and slightly modified version of the Mother Grub, which can take gametic material from two humans and attempt to grow a fetus therewith. Though this method does allow for same-sex reproduction, it has a much lower proportional success rate than heterosexual intercourse, meaning that the children of same-sex couples still constitute an extremely small fraction of the total human population. In addition, thanks to the Thirteen's engineering, humans and trolls are interfertile. If a human and a troll engage in internal sex, they will produce human offspring (though such offspring will have a tendency towards grayish skin and discolored blood).

Such interbreeding would doubtless have caused humans to evolve into a psionic race over time, but the Thirteen chose to jump the gun, imbuing humans with the same sort of psionic powers that the trolls possessed. Though humans on average wield slightly less psionic power than trolls, the strength of the gift varies wildly, just as it does among trolls. The precise nature of any given human's psionic abilities appears to be partially hereditary, partially based on the individual's own personality and influences, and partially random. Humans are also, of course, capable of using magic if it is granted by one or another of the Gods.

The third race of Alterra, the carapacians, are by far the rarest, comprising roughly a thirteenth of the planet's population. While carapacians have been altered to allow them to reproduce on their own, the Gods also retain the knowledge necessary to grow new carapacians, and are known to do so on occasion. In more modern eras, this knowledge has also entered mortal hands, though the Thirteen have made it _very_ clear that their wrath will descend on any attempt to enslave mortal-grown carapacians.

Carapacians may be divided into five distinct castes:

Pawns are by far the most common of the carapacian subcastes. They are bipedal, with a head, torso, two arms, all the normal anatomical features, and no odd alterations. Though somewhat physically weaker and more fragile than humans or trolls, they are capable enough. Like all carapacians, pawns possess no form of psionic power, though they are as capable as any other race of using magic. All natural-born carapacians are born as pawns, and indeed pawns are one of only two carapacian castes capable of reproduction. However, a certain fraction of pawns will, upon reaching the appropriate portion of their life cycle, go through what is essentially a form of metamorphosis, and transform into one of the other four castes.

Rooks are marked by their bulging muscles, their vast strength, and the odd castle-shaped deformities upon their backs. They tend to fill something of a heavy labor role, especially as their transformation tends to actually diminish their intelligence.

Bishops are marked by their high crests (actually part of their body) and the distinctive scepters they usually bear. They are known to possess mystical abilities that are neither psionic nor magical, but the precise nature of those powers remains fairly obscure.

Knights bear some resemblance to the musclebeast lusii in physical form. They are generally something of a warrior caste, acting as the core of a carapacian kingdom's armies. To fit this role, their carapace is much more durable than the norm.

Royals are by far the rarest caste, and in fact any given carapcian city-state will have precisely two of them at any given time-a King and a Queen. Should one of them die, a suitable Pawn will within a few days undergo metamorphosis to replace the loss. The King has a size and build reminiscent of a Rook, though without the castle-like deformity and with somewhat less grotesque musculature. He is also far more intelligent than a Rook. The Queen, meanwhile, resembles an enlarged Pawn, standing somewhat taller than her counterpart (though of course far more slender). The Royals are, as the name suggests, the leaders of their city-state, with obedience to their authority seeming hard-coded into the carapacian genome. Royals, like Pawns, are fertile.


End file.
